Dull Eyes
by Yanagi of the Wind
Summary: It was almost over, and most of them had been wiped out. M and N were alive, and the survivors were doing much better than before. But one of the last generation of Wammy Boys isn't with them. Dark themed.
1. Matt lives

Matt looked at the blonde who was chained to the wall. His old leather was torn and worn down to a dark gray, and his skin was pale. Deathly.

Mello's head slowly moved up towards the redhead, his once-blue irises dull, empty, and sightless. He growled at Matt, surely baring his teeth behind the cloth that covered his mouth. His ribs were showing. The teen hadn't eaten in over a week.

The redhead wished that he could just let Mello go, and that he could nonchalantly walk over, apologize, stick a bar of chocolate in the blonde's mouth, and everything would be better. But there was no way in Hell anyone in their right mind would do that. Of course, Matt wasn't in his right mind, not completely...

As he neared the first chain, he cursed himself. He wasn't allowed a key. If he was going to get Mello out of the chains, he would have to break the other one's hands, and if he did that, the boy would still find a way to kill him. It wasn't like he could be reasoned with.

"Matt."

The redhead had collapsed on his knees in front of Mello, and for the tiniest fragment of a second, he'd thought it was the blonde who'd spoken. No, it was Near, standing behind him, his normally stoic face barely managing to hide the pain. "You know we can't keep him like this," The albino said.

"We can try!" Matt pleaded. "There's still time! It's over, there's plenty of people and we're smart, we can find a cure-"

"There is no cure for that, Matt." His words were solid, strict. They both knew it was true. "He's too far gone, even if there was a cure, he wouldn't pull through."

Matt shook his head, unable to stand. He couldn't do it. Not to Mello.

"Matt, please," Near said, his voice beginning to tremble. "You know it has to be done. You know that. And you were the closest one to him."

Matt put his head in his hands, not bothering to hold back the tears. "I don't- I don't want to."

"It's not like Kira could do it."

The redhead snapped his head up. "Don't bring that up!"

"Kira was probably eaten."

"_Don't_, Near! I'm warning you, don't even think-"

"L was killed by things like Mello, and Kira probably was, too. If he's alive he's either not bothering killing these things or he can't because they're already dead."

Matt jumped up and screamed at Near, "He's not dead! There's still a chance he can be brought back! You just don't care because you can't feel anything, anyway, and you don't know what it's like!"

Mello snarled at the both of them, pulling violently against the metal chains, never stopping the growling in their direction. His dead wrist gave in, and an arm was freed from the chains. Both boys jumped away from him as he waved the damaged arm at them in an attempt to grab them.

"_Matt_, you have to do it _now!_"

Very reluctantly, Matt pulled out the handgun he'd kept with him for safety since the entire situation started. Biting his lip and tears blurring his vision, the teen pointed the gun and fired. Mello slumped down. He didn't move again. Matt couldn't feel his legs. There was no chance he'd be back. Never.

Near was silent for a time. He finally spoke up after a few minutes. "We should go. We'll bury him once the sun comes up and there's little risk of a surprise attack."

Matt sighed out, dropping the gun with a clatter and putting his head in his hands. "Damned zombies..."

Near left. He would leave Matt to grieve.

* * *

**A/N: It's difficult to express with words how depressing it was to write this. I was watching an episode of _The Walking Dead_, and I noticed how the zombies have such light irises and thought, "Ooh, I should write a fanfiction where a character gets turned into a zombie and make it a point to tell how the eyes are!" It didn't turn out the way I expected. In fact, it was originally going to be Matt that died, but I wanted to switch it around after thinking a bit. Anyway, I at least wrote something with a zombie in it, so I guess I'm satisfied.  
**


	2. Mello lives

The problem wasn't when they were stranded on the roof, running low on ammo with at least twenty rotting creatures growling and hissing and biting at them. It wasn't when he had run out of bullets and had to resort to using his fists- no, he was great with his fists. In fact, it wasn't even when he nearly tripped backwards, the last of the stinking zombies grabbing his shoulders and opening its mouth wide, much wider than any human could. No, Matt had taken care of that.

The problem wasn't when Matt had come stumbling over to him and lost his balance, toppling over the side of the roof like the idiot of a genius he was, doing the very last thing either of them- or anybody else, for that matter- had expected someone to die in an apocalypse from. It wasn't when Mello had trampled down the stairs, eyes blurry because he knew his friend would have hit the ground before he'd even gotten to the door but _goddammit_ he still had things to say that he would have if he hadn't been so ashamed. In fact, it wasn't even when he wasn't attacked by another one because they had shot them all in the area, even though he wanted it to happen so badly so he wouldn't have to see the mess his best friend had made.

Out of the events that transpired in under twenty minutes- because it might have seemed longer, but zombie hunting could go so quickly when emotions like fear, excitement, worry, and horror were running wildly- the problem wasn't that Matt died, or that Mello lived. The problem was that Matt didn't have a scratch on him, no bite or gash or scrape, but he got up. _It_ got up.

And in the moment he stared down the monster that was his friend only three minutes earlier, Mello wondered exactly what kind of world he was alone in.

* * *

**A/N: I didn't know what to write, but then this idea came to me. Eh.  
**


End file.
